Inside Westminster: Tales of Hubris and Betrayal No 11
by mrsordinary54
Summary: 'Time's Up' is a parody of the shenanigans of the British political 'elite'.


INSIDE WESTMINSTER: TALES OF HUBRIS AND BETRAYAL

11

TIME'S UP

Potty's phone rang.

'Darling hope the p…

Before he could finish his enquiries about Mandy's parents, a voice he vaguely remembered bellowed at him:

'Potty, old chum, how the devil are you? It's me from your glorious alma mater, Sedgewick, Sedgewick Savage Fitzboodle. Remember me, Potty, same year at Corpus. Rescued you from disgrace with the gorgeous Pandora.'

Potty racked his brains and vaguely remembered being caught with his trousers down, literally behind the bicycle shed with the leggy Pandora whilst his steady girlfriend of the time was searching for him as he'd disappeared from her side at the local hunt ball.

Sedgewick had come to his rescue and guided the anxious girl away from Ptolomy's sexploits.

The years had passed and their ways had parted, so Potty was genuinely surprised to hear from his one-time saviour.

'Wonderful to hear from you, Sedge, how can I help?'

'No, I think it's I who can help you, old man!' exclaimed Sedgewick. 'I hear you're thinking of making a leadership bid, putting the old lame duck out of her misery. 'Bout time too.'

'Well, it's no secret. And I do think I'd be better at standing up for this great nation's rights.'

'Too right!' retorted Sedgewick enthusiastically.

'Anyway, if you don't mind me asking, what's it got to do with you? I didn't think you'd gone into politics.'

'No I didn't. Hedgefunds, actually. And done rather well, though I say it myself. Earned the moniker 'Sedge the Hedge'.'

Potty's ears were beginning to prick up and he could smell the sweet scent of money…lots of it.'

'Want to help. Can't bear the thought of those Frenchies getting one over on us. I mean, how dare they! Macron and Mutti – what a pair! We could end up tied to her apron strings for years!'

'Yes, but how can you help…me?' asked Potty hesitatingly.

'Money, I've made millions. Never married, so no expensive brats or exes spoiling my life. Thought it'd be fun to get – well – involved.'

Had Potty been religious, he would have fallen on his knees and thanked the Lord, his Maker, but instead he punched the air, almost dislocating his shoulder.

'Let's meet. Where do you live?'

'Can come up to town this evening if that would help.'

And with that, Potty's leadership bid suddenly took on a new vigour. And with the excitement, Potty found himself aware that he was dying to make mad passionate love to Mandy.

But where was his amour? Hopefully not too upset by her parents' disapproval. Still, in spite of any upset, she was always 'up for it', so no worries there.

'Ok, how about 8 at my club, 'The Mayfair'?'

'Done. See you later, old chum.'

And so Ptolomy's life was transformed from one of mild despair to a positive whirlwind of possibilities. Suddenly, he really could see himself in number 10, with Mandy at his side.

Potty tried once more to ring Mandy. Still with no luck, so he decided to get to the club early. He'd catch up with Mandy later.

Mandy, on the other hand, hadn't given Potty a second thought. She'd just enjoyed the best sex of her life and didn't want to leave Juan's side for a second as she'd been aware of the drooling stares of some of the hotel staff – females and males alike.

No, he was hers. She'd had the luck to find him and nail him, so now she was darn well going to enjoy him and, hopefully, keep him.

Juan was in town for just three measly days, meaning so few nights to fulfil her lust. She couldn't believe how genuinely beautiful his body was: bronzed abs and muscled thighs to die for; athleticism and stamina that meant for the first time ever she'd been genuinely satiated and, finally, his amazing concern for her enjoyment.

Poor Potty had no idea of the competition he now faced. No matter what he had to offer career-wise, the performance his sad pasty body offered was just no match for the peerless Juan.

The allure of Number 10 and all its power had suddenly evaporated. No, Mandy now saw herself in tight white jodphurs astride her newfound stallion. She'd have to learn to play polo too.

But how to fund her new path? Her parents had carried out their threat and stopped her generous allowance. She knew that unless she married Potty, her financial security was dodgy to say the least. And anyway, Potty's income was due to be sorely diminished by his ever-present ex, Sophia. Didn't he have four brats too? She now considered that time spent with Potty was no longer a 'sound investment'.

Poor Potty. He really was dead meat, though he had no idea!


End file.
